Philharmonic Society of New York Concert: 2nd

: Strong, George Templeton. New-York Historical Society. The Diaries of George Templeton Strong, 1863-1869: Musical Excerpts from the MSs, transcribed by Mary Simonson. ed. by Christopher Bruhn., 06 January 1872.

“Home in time for Philharmonic rehearsal. Much enraged by circum-surround chatterings.

Second Philharmonic concert tonight. In our box were Mr. & Mrs. Bridgham & William Schermerhorn—Mr. & Mrs. Dick Willis & that sweet little bit of Miss Annie—Temple [Strong’s middle son]—Dickon [Richard Henry Derby]—Willie Graham—Jem [Ruggles]—and I believe some more. (Dr. Van Buren’s Miss Sally was with us yesterday). House was full, & silence all but universal. First came the Euryanthe overture, glowing with life, & redolent of the game flavor that’s hardly to be found except in Weber’s work. Then the Reinecke piano concerto, very nice, but suggestive of nothing—except perhaps a mild degree of wonder why it was written, & why it should be played—& then jolly old Haydn, in his court suit, with King Frederic’s diamond sparkling on his finger, came smiling on the stage, & gave us his most lovely G symphony—with memory of which I am now permeated. What exquisite song in the 2^nd movement—what a charming trio—& what an intensely genial fresh joyous finale! The health soundness & sweetness of Haydn’s genius were immense. The wholesomeness of his music is potent & drastic. It seems an antidote to all morbid feeling. Then for part 2 the long labored Raff symphony, ‘Im Walde.’ It is certainly not bad. It’s a piece of honest elaborate work & study. There are beautiful points in it—but no trace of Haydn’s fresh cordiality & inspiration. His symphony might have been written at a single sitting. Raff’s must have cost many months of labor. But every measure of the former outweighs every page of the latter. Haydn is pure gold. Raff is elaborated pewter.”

Review: New-York Times, 07 January 1872, 4.

“The second Philharmonic concert of the present season occurred at the Academy of Music last evening. As usual, the house was filled, and a great deal of applause was bestowed upon the interpretation of the programme, if not upon the programme itself. The selections recited were as follows [see above].

The familiar charge of lack of variety can again be urged against this bill. Both Reinecke and Raff are representative musicians of kindred aspirations, and the brief excerpt from Weber’s compositions, and the vivacious but thin music of Haydn scarcely offset the heavy symphony and the concerto. The latter was the most effective piece of the evening, thanks mainly to the admirable playing of Mr. S. G. Mills on a magnificent Steinway. If the second and third movements of the work had been equal in respect of treatment to the first, the title of concerto would have been better deserved. In the allegro are called into requisition, and in the right proportions, the piano and the band. But the adagio is rather a solo with a violin obligato than anything else, and the allegro con brio is so devoid of ideas as to be inferior to either of the previous parts. We have already said that Mr. Mills’ performance was admirable, and a knowledge of the difficulties of the piece, which an audience is not expected to possess, will make the gentleman’s mastery of his task still more praiseworthy in the eyes of the student. In point of appreciation and expression, for crisp definition of every note in the most rapid passages and for alternate nicety of delivery and breadth and vigor of phrasing, we cannot hope that Mr. Mills’ efforts will ever be excelled. Had a solo violinist been intrusted with a share of the second movement, the results would have been more satisfying. Mr. Matzka is an accomplished and industrious musician, but the tone of an habitual soloist cannot be expected of an artist who is never missed from the orchestra. In Raff’s symphony, as in the concerto, the first movement, illustrative of impressions at dawn in the forest, is the most felicitous, in matter and manner, of the four. The second, a largo, expressive of reverie at twilight is pretty, and becomingly vague. The allegro assai, which is supposed to depict a dance of dryads, is fanciful without being striking. The final portion of the composition is intended to illustrate the ‘entrance and departure of the wild huntsmen,’ and is by no means remarkable; Raff will never rival the demon music of Weber. Haydn’s symphony does not need detailed reference. It was rendered with laudable precision, but there was occasionally less lightness of handling and finish about the execution than, for example, Mr. Thomas’ smaller force would have brought to a similar labor.”

Review: New York Herald, 08 January 1872, 8.

“The usual large audience attended the Philharmonic Concert at the Academy of Music on Saturday night. The rehearsals and concerts of the society seem to be regarded by young ladies of musical proclivities as a school of instruction, for they form the majority of the audience, and are the most attentive during the performance. As on oratorio nights, scores of the music are very plentiful among the audience. The Philharmonic Society, therefore, have a high mission to perform, and it is to be hoped that they will be equal to the task and keep up the high standard of merit hitherto accorded them. The programmes should occasionally show something in the way of novelty, or even interesting revivals. The orchestral works on Saturday, charming as they were, have been played here so often that the public could readily dispense with them, for one season at least, in order to hear compositions less known. There were two symphonies—Haydn’s No. 13, in G major, and ‘Im Walde,’ by Raff, and the overture to ‘Euryanthe.’ Theodore Thomas has already made the New York public well acquainted with all three. Raff’s work, which was the favorite at the Central Park Garden concerts last season, is delightful in its freshness and purity of style, and is not marred by any of the wild vagaries of the Liszt and Wagner school.

The feature of the concert and the only real novely this season was Reinecke’s piano concerto in F sharp major, opus 72, which was magnificently played by Mr. S. B. Mills. Although originality in ideas does not form a conspicuous attribute of the work, yet its general construction and the varied treatment of those ideas stamp the composer as a man of remarkable talent. The orchestral and piano parts are so artistically blended and interwoven that the piano seems to become an instrument in the orchestra, and yet without losing its individuality. In technical difficulties, and also in peculiar phrasing, the concerto will bear comparison with the most intricate compositions of Liszt, and it also demands from the pianist all the gradations of light and shade. There are three movements—1. Adagio et Allegro; 2. Adagio ma non troppo; 3. Allegro con brio. There are two subjects in the first movement, the orchestra commencing with one of them, followed by the piano (solo), repeating the same theme. The reeds then continue the subject, while the piano colors it with some bravura passages of the Hummel order. But this subject is quickly abandoned for another with a more melodious flow. This is given by the piano alone, and makes its first appearance in most charming attire of accompaniment. It is next taken up by the clarionet and colored by the piano. Then the strings, alternating with the reeds, continue to work out the subject, and the most beautiful effects of light and shade are thrown upon it by the piano in a series of bravura passages à la Chopin. Here occur some exceedingly difficult passages for the left hand, and fragmentary themes in dialogue form between the right hand and the violins. After an orchestral tutti the first subject is brought back as a piano solo in minor form and Schumann treatment. It returns after to the original major key and makes way for the second subject brought in again by the strings, with a completely new treatment by the piano. Next we are presented with a few Lisztian passages, and the subject is worked up both by the piano and orchestra to a climax, leading into one of the most original and cleverly constructed cadenzas we have ever heard in a piano concerto. In this cadenza both subjects are introduced and are exhibited in every possible form, like the shifting colors of the kaleidoscope.

The second movement, ‘Adagio,’ is a perfect gem of beauty. It is in six-eight time and is opened by a violin solo, followed by some lovely Chopin passages on the piano. The violoncello then takes up the second theme from the piano, over which the latter throws a spray of arpeggio passages. The piano then returns to the first subject of the movement, beginning it with the accompaniment of tympani and contrabasses (pizzicati) alone. A brief phrase from the horn, a sudden swell in the orchestra, a few delightful passages of the Chopin order from the piano and the movement comes to an end, the piano and orchestra being in contrary motion for the last dozen measures.

The last movement, ‘Allegro con brio,’ is not as interesting as either of its predecessors. It opens in a semi-fugue style after the introductory passages by the orchestra, and strongly impregnated with Schumann. A second subject is introduced by the piano, with those flowing arpeggio passages which are so characteristic of Hummel. The finale was a storm of octaves à la Liszt. This admirable work found an able interpreter in Mr. Mills. He brought to it all the resources a perfect technique, complete phrasing, warmth of artistic spirit and keen appreciation of the composer’s ideas, and the noble grand piano responded to his emotional touch like an obedient spirit at the call of a magician.”

Review: New-York Daily Tribune, 09 January 1872, 7.

“The programme of the second Philharmonic concert on Saturday evening was as follows [see above].

Two of these four pieces were very familiar, and two were novelties. The overture to ‘Euryanthe’ was finely given, and the well-known cheerful little symphony of Haydn’s (substituted for Mendelssohn’s ‘Hebrides’ overture which had previously been announced), was played with spirit and accuracy, though the tone was rather heavy. Carl Reinecke’s concerto owed such success as it obtained more to the splendid execution of Mr. Mills than to its intrinsic interest. It belongs to that class of compositions commonly known in Germany as ‘capellmeister music,’ carefully written, well-constructed, polished, scholarly, lacking nothing, indeed, but a spark of originality, a little flash of inspiration, to be most excellent work. The first movement, an allegro, is a capital study in the classical style, but makes little impression. In the second, an adagio, a charming effect is produced by a piano and violin duet, the violin part taken on this occasion by Mr. Matzka. The third movement, allegro con brio, is more remarkable for its difficulty than for anything else. The treatment of the instruments throughout is admirable, and the execution, [illegible] by the pianist and orchestra, was exceptionally good.

Raff’s symphony is the new one which was announced by the Society last year, but not given because the parts could not be procured in time. The second and third movements were several times played by Theodore Thomas last Summer, but the symphony as a whole had not been heard in New-York until Saturday night. Raff holds a very high place among living writers for the orchestra, but it was unfortunate that in this Forest Symphony he should have attempted in part to do what Beethoven had done in the Pastoral. His purpose, however, was not merely to indicate the scenes and sensations of woodland nature. He divides the symphony into three parts, the first symbolizing Day, and consisting of an allegro movement, representative of rustic impressions, which inevitably provokes comparison with the Pastoral, though it is not at all an imitation; the second, in two movements, standing for Twilight, and consisting of a beautiful Revery (largo), followed by a dance of Dryads (minuet); and the third indicating Night, with a weird passage representing the [passing?] of the wild huntsmen and the supernatural forms with which German imagination peopled the dark forests, the symphony closing with an allegro typical of Daybreak. The fault of the work is a lack of interest in the first and last movements. The beginning is rather tame; the close ambitious but not impressive. Yet inclosed between these dull extremes are two beautiful movements for which alone the composition was well worth producing.”